Enough for now, galaxy and litter.

1. At the back of my mind has been a worry about running out of soil for earthing up my potato pots. But now I look at the bottom of the compost heap I see I have enough for now, and more coming on in the other compost box.

2. A whole galaxy of dandelion suns.

3. Nick gleefully picks up litter all the way back through the woods. 

Tiny weeds, fairies and poem.

1. To pull a few tiny weeds from the potato pots.

2. By looking sideways through the back window we can see floating willow fluffs caught on the sunset.

3. There is a lovely poem by Grace Nichols called Granny Granny Please Comb My Hair. The child says that her granny takes her time, while her mummy 'is always in a hurry'. Bettany brings me a comb and asks me to do her hair while she reads it.

Footprints, cliff-hanger and flow.

1. Ahead of me there are footprints in the dew.

2. The children are so thrilled by the cliff-hanger that they ask if they can read the next chapter to me.

3. To vanish into work so completely that an hour passes in minutes.

Birdsong, empty park and a warning.

1. Half awake I can't tell whether the birdsong is on the radio among the music or falling through the skylight.

2. It's still daylight when we come home from Cubs, but the sun is low. Bettany has a quick go on the swings in the empty park. She says she hasn't come here for ages because she doesn't like the crowds any more.

3. I swear I've never read this Agatha Christie book before, but there is a very familiar passage where a male doctor decides to fob off a female patient with a hard-to-find proprietary laxative in a tasteful salmon pink coating. When I read it previously, this passage struck me as well observed and skilfully conveyed, saying a lot about both about this character specifically and generally about a certain type of professional man. To me, at that time, it felt like a warning, woman to woman. Thanks, Mrs Christie.

Babysitter, St George's Day and account.

1. The children come and sit on me to tell me all about the agency babysitter they had last night. Alec hid in his room and shut the door, but Bettany is very pleased to tell me about the ad breaks in Britain's Got Talent.

2. The train disgorges scouts, cubs and beavers, each group in a different uniform. It makes me think of the parade of playing cards in Alice in Wonderland.

3. The story of the day comes out in a disordered rush, the streams crossing and clashing as they vie for their turn to speak. Among the torrent I can make out quad bikes, a climbing wall, hot dogs, sweets, packed lunches, a boy called Gideon, a hamster wheel, last one standing, sumo suits, queuing, a bouncy castle, stilts...

New person, pursuit and race.

1. Mostly my cousin's new baby just wants to feed -- but I do get to hold her, and stare into her dark blue eyes for a moment. Then she goes back to rooting across my chest and cardigan,

2. With a handful of sunscreen, I chase a mischievous three-year-old down the garden. I'm glad it's not just my children who were very, very tinksy.

3. I have an idea that if I'm quick-smart making my connection, I won't have to wait half an hour -- and sure enough there is a train to Tonbridge waiting all the way down the platform. I have to run, pulling off my mask as I go but I just make it to a seat in the first carriage and replace my mask feeling very, very pleased with myself.

Potato leaves, expedition and set-up.

1. I check my garden and find that there are (at last) dark green potato leaves sticking up through the soil.

2. We go on an expedition to the industrial estate and come back by a winding way, stopping for coffee and to explore an unknown playground. 

3. I've left Nick rather grumpily setting up Bettany's new tablet. All evening notifications on my phone's parental controls tell me that he's succeeded with getting various apps to work.